


The Stubborn Witness of the Everyday

by carolinecrane



Category: Big Eden (2000)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5511797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry's not known for his portraits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stubborn Witness of the Everyday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dkwilliams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/gifts).



There’s a birthmark on Pike’s back, just below his shoulder blade. Henry likes to run his fingers over it, circling the tiny mark until Pike shivers under his touch and turns onto his back to pull Henry close and distract him with a kiss. 

He’s traced Pike’s birthmark a hundred times by now, pressed his lips to the spot and then kissed his way down Pike’s spine until he’s gasping and shivering under Henry’s fingers. Henry knows every inch of him, but no matter how many times he runs his hands over Pike’s skin, he knows it will never be enough.

He’ll never get enough of Pike’s hands on him, so much bigger than his own. He’ll never get enough of Pike’s mouth, soft and gentle even after all this time, as though he’s still worried he might break Henry if he tries to take too much. For a long time Henry felt breakable, and he hid himself away to make sure no one got the chance to hurt him. But with Pike he feels strong for the first time since he moved to New York, like he can do anything as long as they’re together.

“I want to paint you,” he says, fingers tracing the curve of Pike’s shoulder.

Pike makes a noise that sounds like a mixture of denial and amusement, his hands stilling on Henry’s hips. “You don’t paint people.”

“I’m not known for my portraits,” Henry agrees, smiling as he slides his hand down Pike’s chest to rest just above his heart. “But in high school I sketched people all the time. I’m sure the skill will come back to me quickly enough.”

He doesn’t mention who all those portraits were of, because he knows Pike doesn’t want to hear about his years of pining after Dean. It’s still a bit of a sore spot, even though they’ve been together for almost a year now, and Pike knows how Henry feels about him. Anyway, his high school sketchbooks don’t matter, because the face he most wants to capture now is the one looking back at him.

“You know what I look like,” Pike says, his gaze shifting down to Henry’s hand as his own comes up to cover it. He pulls their hands away from his chest and lifts them to his mouth, lips pressed against the tips of Henry’s fingers. “There’s no need to paint me.”

“But I _want_ to,” Henry says again, smiling at Pike’s frown. “You’re beautiful, Pike, and the whole world should know it. But I’ll settle for a portrait to hang here in the house.”

He feels Pike’s blush more than sees it, and he’s not sure Pike will actually agree to sit for him when the time comes. But for now he’s not arguing; instead he lifts Henry’s hand to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist, then the soft skin of his forearm, then the sensitive spot just to the side of his elbow. He takes his time, expert fingers seeking out the spots on Henry’s body that Pike knows make him breathless and desperate, until he’s flushed and arching up for more.

If Pike’s trying to distract him, it’s working. Henry laughs at the thought, breathless and happy, and when Pike straightens up to look at him, he grins and pulls Pike forward to kiss him hard. Pike breathes in deep through his nose and presses Henry down into the mattress, one hand sliding down his hip and around his thigh. Henry takes the hint and hooks a leg around Pike’s own, heel digging into the back of Pike's calf and rocking up against him.

Pike lets out a muffled moan and kisses his way down Henry’s neck, hips rocking down to meet Henry’s with every upward thrust. The hand on his thigh tugs up a little, just hard enough to make Henry gasp. He knows his leg’s probably going to cramp and be sore tomorrow, but right now he doesn’t care, because Pike’s breathing hard against his neck and when Henry murmurs a soft ‘Pike’, he thrusts forward one last time and comes.

Henry’s arms slide around Pike’s back, holding him close while he pants his way through his orgasm. When he finally relaxes he lifts up far enough to reach between them, his hand sliding through the mess on his own stomach before he wraps it around Henry’s cock. His fingers shake a little, but Henry reaches between them and closes his own hand around Pike’s, and together they bring him off in just a few strokes.

He falls back against the pillow, eyes closed and panting, his lips curving in a satiated grin. An arm slides around his waist and Pike leans close, pressing his lips to the side of Henry’s neck, then his jaw. Henry turns into Pike without bothering to open his eyes, and when he finds Pike’s mouth he parts his lips for a slow, deep kiss.

“I still want to paint you,” he murmurs when Pike pulls back, and when Pike lets out a low chuckle, Henry grins and lets him pull away to find something to clean them up with. 

~

It’s a few days later when Pike comes home to find Henry working on a new canvas. He’s standing in front of his easel, the afternoon sun pouring in through the living room windows and illuminating the new painting. As soon as Pike sees it he feels the color rise up his neck, and he reaches up to run a hand through long hair.

“That’s… Is that…?”

“It is,” Henry answers, glancing over his shoulder to smile at Pike. “Working from memory isn’t quite the same as working from a model, but something told me you weren’t going to cooperate if I asked you to sit for me.”

He takes a few steps into the room, then a couple more, until finally he’s close enough to get a good look at the image taking shape on the canvas. His arms cross over his chest and he presses a thumb to his lips, head tilted a little as he studies the image of his own profile. There’s no background yet, so he doesn’t know what the image of him is supposed to be looking at, but he has to admit the likeness is striking.

“I don’t think I’ve got your chin quite right,” Henry says, and Pike glances over to find Henry studying him. He takes a step toward Pike and reaches up, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Yes, it’s a bit too sharp. I’ll fix it tomorrow.”

Pike’s used to being lost for words, and this is no exception. He knew when Henry said that he wanted to paint him that he meant it, but he’d assumed Henry would forget the idea after a night’s sleep. He should have known better; Henry likes to tease him, but he’s always serious about his art.

“Well?” Henry asks, a hand on Pike’s arm to draw his attention back to the fact that Henry’s waiting for him to offer an opinion. “What do you think?”

“It looks like me,” Pike says, because it’s the truth. He can’t say he loves it, because it’s a picture of him, and he doesn’t have any use for a picture of himself. But he loves Henry, and if Henry wants a picture of him, he’s not going to argue.

Henry lets out a soft ‘hmm’ and studies the portrait for another moment. “It’s getting there.”

They stand side by side for a while, Henry studying the portrait and Pike studying Henry. Finally he clears his throat, then he runs a nervous hand through his hair for the second time. “I could sit for you. For a while. If it would help.”

“Really?” Henry says, turning to beam at him, and the look on his face erases any momentary regret Pike feels at opening his mouth. “It wouldn’t take long. I just want to get your chin right.”

“Okay,” Pike says, then, “I better go start on dinner.”

He lets Henry lean up to kiss him, lingering for a moment before he pulls away and steals another glance at his portrait. It’s a little weird, looking at a picture of himself, but if it makes Henry happy he’s not going to complain.


End file.
